When Have I Ever Played Fair? xx Larry Stylinson
by feelsforbreakfast
Summary: Louis and Harry are the co-captains of their varsity soccer team and if they want to get each other off in the locker room then there really isn't anyone to stop them.


**I totally forgot to upload this here! Happy Little Things release day, and enjoy! 3**

Early spring games are Harry's least favorite for a couple of reasons. First, is the cold. His mother can repeat 'there's no such thing as bad weather just bad clothing' as many times as she wants and it's not going to change the fact that he's in four layers of lycra and his teeth still won't stop chattering. Second, is the rain. Fall is usually better, there are a few sprinkles here and there and occasionally a thunderstorm, but in the spring it does that thing where it continually downpours just enough to make the field muddy and soak him to the skin. The aforementioned lycra, which is apparently 'warm while wet' is, plot twist, not warm while wet.

It's the fourth quarter, and the game is tied after he let in two goals and Zayn and Stan each scored one in the first half. He's soaked to the skin, lips blue, hands stiff in his goalie gloves, cleats stuck in the mud, and his team is fucking around with the ball somewhere downfield.

One of the advantages of being in goal is that Louis plays defense. This is good not only because Louis is one of the best defenders ever and generally keeps the ball away from Harry, but also because he's always jumping around the field (Louis is one of those soccer players who never really stands still, always shifting from foot to foot or doing cute little false starts and the like) and so it gives Harry a pretty ace view of his ass.

The fact of the matter is, Louis is really hot when he plays soccer. He's really hot all the time, but with his hair mussed, jersey loose on his small frame, his skin sweat slick, he becomes like some ridiculous angel faced sex god. Harry is fairly sure that half of the balls he lets in the net could be attributed to Louis Tomlinson and his powers of distraction.

There's a yell from somewhere upfield as one of the red players breaks away from the pack, dribbling the ball down away from where most of the team is clusterfucked, (who needs spreading out when you can brutally elbow each other and kick everyone in the shins) and heading straight for Harry.

He can see the kid with the ball look up at Liam, their other defender, and change direction to avoid him, heading straight for right field where Louis is holding court. Harry smiles as the poor kid makes his first mistake.

Liam looks like the stronger player, he's burlier and bigger, but Louis makes up for his size by being quick and more than a little bit aggressive. He's been the cause of more than a few penalty kicks since he started playing, each one violently contested. Harry can see a smile curling across Louis' face as he streaks across the field, that lazy one that he wears when he knows he's about to get something he wants. The kid has his eyes focused on Harry and it's his second mistake.

Louis shoulders into him with perhaps more strength than necessary, knocking the other boy nearly to the ground, a bundle of swears falling from his lips. Harry can't hear Louis' response, but he's fairly sure it's 'sorry mate' in the least sincere tone possible. Louis takes the ball, dribbling around the other player and taking it across to the nearly empty left field.

Harry smiles, knowing in the moment where Louis pauses, scanning the field with that smile on his face, just what's going to happen. Then he takes off, flying down the field with most of the team trailing behind him as he dodges one defender after another until there's no one between him and the goal but the keeper.

Harry bites his lip as Louis gets closer and closer, the keeper going into a defensive stance. Harry does a few quick jumps, partially for warmth and partially to expel all the nervous energy festering in his bones. "C'mon love." He mutters under his breath, watching intently.

Louis is about fifteen feet from the goal when he pulls his foot back, slamming the ball into motion. It arcs into the air just above the keeper's fingers, and for a moment Harry thinks its going to hit the post, but then it's flying against the net and he's clapping and running towards the goal line.

The team is forming a borderline dangerous pile on the other side, but its less than a minute before Louis is breaking free, sprinting down the field and careening into his arms. Harry swings him in a stumbling circle, Louis' body warm against his.

"Did you see me?" Louis asks breathlessly when Harry finally sets him down, his eyes sparkling with happiness. Being a defender, he doesn't score all that many goals, but when he does it's certainly spectacular.

Harry laughs, kissing him quickly on the mouth. "Of course I saw you, you were brilliant!"

"I did it!" Louis buries his head quickly in Harry's shoulder before racing back out to his position as the game starts back up. "I did it!"

Harry laughs. "You did it!"

The game is pretty much over after that. There's only about ten minutes left, and while the other team does manage to get another shot in, its pretty weak, and Harry hurls the ball back across the field with ease. In no time they're piling into the locker room, stripping down to their undershirts and hopping into the showers.

Harry practically falls onto the bench, peeling his gloves off and untying his shoes. Louis sits down next to him, pulling him into an enthusiastic kiss. Briefly, just as Harry is getting his hands around Louis' waist to pull him closer, he wonders if Louis is just as attracted to Harry in a soccer uniform as Harry is attracted to Louis.

Niall bangs against the locker closest to them as he passes, ripping his shirt up over his head. "Oi, no sex in the locker room!"

Louis pulls back with a laugh, starting in on his shoes as Harry lobs a sock at him. "You're no fun, Niall!"

"Oh I'm plenty fun, I am just not fun in the locker room." Niall shoots back, stripping down to his boxers and grabbing a towel, heading for the showers. "You sick fucks need to get over your public places kink."

"Little alarmed that you know their kinks, Niall." Liam points out from where he's shoving his socks into his gym bag.

"Niall's just jealous he doesn't have a hot boyfriend to fuck him against the lockers." Zayn interjects, making one of the newer kids look up in alarm. It always takes the babies a few weeks to get used to the homosexual innuendo squad that has become the varsity soccer team ever since Harry and Louis became co-captains.

"Weirdly enough, I'm not." Niall calls over. "Probably because I'm the only fucking straight person on this team!"

"I'm straight too!" Liam calls, far enough away from them that he misses Zayn's subtly raised eyebrows.

Louis shoves his socks, shorts, and shin guards into a plastic bag, throwing them into his duffel and then leaning close to Harry, whispering into his ear. "I wonder if we could?"

Harry raises an eyebrow. "Could what?"

Louis leans so his lips brush the shell of Harry's ear. "Fuck in the locker room."

Harry tries to suppress the shiver that creeps down his spine at Louis' words. "No!"

"Why not?" Louis asks, pulling away and stripping his jersey and undershirt off, leaving just his captain armband on, like he knows how hot it makes him look.

"Because it's the locker room!"

"That was the same logic you used for the choir room, janitor's closet, and Zayn's bedroom, I thought we'd gotten past this."

Harry flushes. "I still feel kinda bad about Zayn's bedroom."

"Well that's one of us." Louis replies, running his fingers across the back of Harry's neck as he heads for his locker, pulling it open and setting his cleats at the bottom.

Harry strips down to his boxers and arm band, shoving his wet stuff into his already nasty gym bag. "Fine."

Louis whirls on him, grin wicked and wide. "What did you say?"

Harry pulls a hand through his curls, his brown hair wet with rain and sweat. He thinks he's probably going to regret this, but the more he concentrates on Louis' sweat slick body, the more he thinks he doesn't really care."I said fine."

Louis' grin brightens more than Harry thinks possible. "Excellent."

Harry rolls his eyes and heads for the showers, facing the wall as he strips down. He remembers when he was an uncomfortable freshman and the showers scared the shit out of him, the prospect of being surrounded by a bunch of sweaty half-naked upperclassman a combination of his best dreams and worst nightmares. He smiles as the spray flows down his freezing cold body, confident in the fact that it's been a while since he felt that self conscious. A lot of that is Louis, if he thinks about it, a continuous reminder that being different is just a little bit worth it. He still gets some shit for being gay, but he's gotten a lot less since some junior called him a faggot and Liam punched him in the face. Being co-captain of an undefeated soccer team certainly doesn't hurt either.

"Haz and Lou, you coming for pizza?" Comes Stan's voice from the lockers, where most of the team is drying off and throwing on their sweats.

"Not tonight, mate." Comes Louis' reply before Harry can answer. "Maybe next time!"

"C'mon lovebirds, pizza!" Olly coerces, his voice partially muffled by the sweatshirt he has halfway over his head.

"Naw, they're going to turn the locker room into the Harry and Louis love shack." Niall interjects, annoying perceptive as always.

"Are not!" Harry replies, though he's fighting a giggle.

"I am not hearing this!" Liam calls. "Everyone out! Pizza!"

There's an hollering, giggling scramble as the team clears out, hoisting bags over their shoulders and slamming lockers until the room is completely empty, the only sound the spray of water as Harry finishes up his shower, toweling his hair nearly dry and wrapping his towel around his waist.

Louis is leaning up against the lockers in nothing more than his boxers and his (stupid) armband, looking at his phone like he isn't just waiting for Harry. "Hey there co-captain, fancy seeing you here."

"You planning on showering?" Harry asks as he pads across the room, suddenly not sure if he really wants Louis to say yes. It's a long way to the showers and he doesn't really think he can wait that long.

"It's not exactly like I'm planning on staying clean." Louis replies with a shrug, sticking his phone in his locker and resuming his earlier position, arms crossed over his chest. "Besides, don't act like you don't like it when I'm sweaty, you think it's sexy."

Harry blushes, holding tight onto his towel as he edges into Louis' space, pressing their foreheads together and using his height to his advantage. "How would you know what I think is sexy?"

Louis licks his lips, pushing his mouth up closer to Harry's. "Call it intuition."

"Whatever you say, Lou." Harry replies, because he's calm and in control and Louis isn't the most maddeningly attractive creature he's ever had pinned to a set of lockers.

"That's Captain Louis Tomlinson to you, love." Louis replies, smirking as he runs a hand down Harry's jawline.

Harry's breath catches in his throat at the edge to Louis' voice, the wicked glint in his eyes. "That's hardly playing fair."

Louis laughs softly into Harry's mouth. "When do I ever?"

Harry makes a noise he'd like to categorize as a laugh but is probably more of a moan as he presses his mouth to Louis', molding their lips together. He tastes salty sweet, still a little cold from the chill outside but quickly warming against Harry', and it's kindof amazing that kissing Louis is somehow always better than he remembers.

Louis takes Harry by the waist, spinning him so he's the one against the lockers, the cool metal making him gasp as Louis pulls him down his level. "You're so warm." He murmurs, their bare chests pressed together as his fingers grope across the hard line of Harry's hipbones and dig into the soft skin of his waist.

"Well I showered." Harry counters, gasping when Louis presses kisses down his neck, biting down on the sensitive skin there.

"Yeah I noticed." Louis responds, worming his hands between them to work at where Harry has a towel knotted against his waist. "And you're so fucking proud of yourself, aren't you?"

Harry tilts his head back, letting his fingers creep underneath the waistband of Louis' boxers as he works at the towel. "Bit proud of myself, yeah."

"I hate you when you're smug." Louis whispers against his neck, the towel dropping to the floor as he moves his hand to Harry's cock, grasping is firmly enough to pull a tiny noise of satisfaction out of Harry. "This is fun, I like how it echoes in here."

Harry just nods, curling his body against Louis' as his boyfriend works him over, nimble hands in slow even strokes.

"What, nothing to say?" Louis teases, rubbing his own boxer clad erection against Harry's thigh.

Harry shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "If you make me talk-" He grits out finally, "I'm going to scream and its not going to be hot."

Louis laughs, rutting against Harry. "I think it could be pretty hot."

"Fucking hate you." Harry replies through gritted teeth as he tries to keep his breath steady, curling his fingers against Louis' back so his fingernails scrape pale red lines down his skin. Louis lets out a soft moan at the action, his rhythm stuttering just the smallest bit.

"No you don't."

Harry bites down on Louis' shoulder instead of answering, sucking a hickey that counts as revenge. He smells like cologne and grass and just a tiny bit like sweat and its really a lot hotter than it should be.

"I want my cock in your mouth." Louis says after a minute or so, just as Harry is really having to concentrate on not completely losing it.

Harry stifles a moan, throwing his head back against the lockers. "You can't just say shit like that Louis, fucking hell."

"Course I can." Louis says, then kisses Harry's hard, hands leaving his cock to tangle in his curls, tugging at them in the way that makes Harry go pliant beneath him. "On your knees, babe." He pulls back to push gently at Harry's shoulders, guiding him into the tile.

Louis leans against the lockers, pushing his boxers down and stepping out of the them, a sly grin on his face. Harry kneels at his feet, not even bothering to try and be a tease as he slides his lips over the head of Louis' cock, wide green eyes looking up like he's asking for permission.

"Your mouth is obscene, Haz." Louis breathes, threading his fingers in Harry's hair as he slides further in his mouth, Harry's eyes fluttering shut at the movement.

Harry tries to take as much of him in as he can, one hand on Louis' waist and the other on his thigh. He attempts to keep his eyes on Louis, his cock achingly hard between his legs and he's really glad Louis started out hard because he doesn't think he can last all that much longer.

"You're just gagging for it aren't you?" Louis asks, fucking a bit further into Harry's mouth. Harry almost attempts a nod, but settles for squeezing Louis' hip instead, fingernails making half moons in his skin. Louis' voice is getting that hoarse quality to it, the breathy tone that means he's closer than he's letting on. He's good at hiding it, holding on to his control until the very end, but Harry's been with him long enough to know when his composure is starting to break down.

Harry tries to take him in further and he knows his throat is going to be sore tomorrow but it's worth it for the way Louis moans and clutches at his hair, hips stuttering the smallest bit. Harry hums a bit in the back of his throat, watching as Louis arches his back, soft noises escaping his lips as his eyes squeeze shut and he comes. Harry doesn't think he's ever seen anything more beautiful than Louis falling apart.

Harry pulls off and swallows, aching to touch himself but waiting for Louis' instruction. Louis slides down as he slowly recovers himself, moving so Harry is sitting between his legs, cock curving nearly against his stomach, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy.

Louis kisses him slowly, licking into his mouth and rocking against Harry's cock in a way that makes him whimper against Louis' mouth.

"Could you-" He begins, voice hoarse and low. "Could you touch me?"

Louis smiles, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth. "Of course."

He curls his hand around Harry once again, leaving soft kisses feathering across his forehead as he sends him over the edge with a few pumping strokes,

"I can't believe its that easy to get you off." Louis marvels as Harry comes down from his high, taking slow breaths, slumped against Louis' shoulder.

Harry looks up, knowing Louis means it in the best way but still feeling his cheeks heat. "Can't help it."

Louis laughs, giving him a consoling pat on the cheek. "If I'd known you were such a cockslut back in 9th grade, we could've been doing this for years."

Harry hides his face in Louis' chest. "I wasn't a cockslut freshman year." He pauses, revising his statement. "I am not a cockslut."

Louis tips Harry's chin up with his freehand, kissing him on the mouth. "You are." He wiggles his dirty hand in front of Harry's face, his come covering Louis' fingers. Before Harry can completely process what's happening, Louis is licking his fingers clean, a mischievous glint in his eye. "It's cute."

"You're such a nympho." Harry shoots back, trying not to be too mesmerized by Louis' tongue.

"I'm not going to deny it." Louis replies, wrapping his legs around Harry's waist. "Carry me to the showers, I have places to be and I stink of soccer and sex."

"Can't really think of anything I'd rather smell like." Harry replies, hoisting Louis up by his thighs and carrying him into the showers. Louis uses the hand that's not wrapped around Harry's neck to turn the shower on, covering them both in hot water as he pulls Harry into a kiss.

"I love you, babe."

Harry smiles against his mouth. "I know."

"You're amazing." Louis strokes his hand down Harry's cheek, his eyes warm. Louis can be silly, he's loud and crazy and has a dominant streak like no one he's ever seen, but he's also incredibly tender sometimes. It's like he keeps a side of himself hidden away just for Harry. "And you're beautiful and not a cockslut."

Harry snickers. "Not sure about that last one."

Louis bites his lip, pressing his forehead to Harry's. "We're having a moment here, Haz, must you be sexual all the time?"

"Only if you continue being so hot." Harry quips before going serious, setting Louis down so they're standing chest to chest . "But I know. I love you and you love me. It's an established fact."

"Good." Louis says seriously, before his eyes light up again and he nods his head over towards the lockers. "Go get changed, you're taking me out to dinner."

Harry laughs, planting a kiss on Louis' head as he heads out, his hair, which had been nearly dry, completely drenched again. "So pushy!"

"Olive Garden!" Louis calls, as Harry dries himself off, slowly pulling on a clean pair of boxers. "We're going to Olive Garden!"

"Why?" Harry half-complains, stretching his arms high above his head. "What's the allure of shitty italian food?"

"I like breadsticks!" Is the only reply he gets, and he rolls his eyes as he throws his damp and moderately sweaty clothing into his bag, his body still riding on a borderline euphoric high.

Louis appears again a few minutes later, finding Harry in a pair of comfy gray sweatpants, a beanie tugged over his curls and a black tee shirt. "You look cute."

"So do you." Harry replies, heading to the far side of the locker room to pick up the sock he threw at Niall.

"Yeah well I'm not wearing any clothes." Louis replies, pulling a pair of boxers on, followed by his bright red sweats.

"Yes, that was the joke."

Louis sticks his tongue out, heading for Harry's locker and pulling out his white sweatshirt, pulling it over his head.

"You do realize that's mine, right? Its got my name on the back and everything." Harry asks, watching Louis in the mirror as he rolls his shirt sleeves up.

"Yes I know it's your sweatshirt. That's why I'm wearing it." Louis replies, slipping his toms on and zipping up his duffle bag.

"And what am I supposed to wear?" Harry asks, heading back over to where Louis is standing and looking altogether too pleased with himself.

"Mine."

"Oh." Harry can't help the smile that breaks across his face as he goes into Louis' locker, pulling out the soft red jumper, the black lettering on the back spelling out TOMLINSON, the number 17 printed underneath. "Smells like you." He observes as he pulls it on, the fleece soft against his skin.

"Well who else would it smell like?" Louis asks fondly, throwing his duffle bag over his shoulder as Harry does the same.

"Well now it'll probably smell like me." Harry replies, taking Louis' hand in his.

"I think I can live with that." Louis replies, tugging Harry out of the locker room and into the rain outside. "Olive Garden?"

Harry rolls his eyes, letting Louis lead him to his car. "Whatever you say, babe, whatever you say."

**Reviews and favorites are always appreciated. Hope you're all doing well. (:**  
**See you soon,**  
**Mattie**


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